At the Edge of the Drift
by Enimite
Summary: Breakdown lost everything to the Kaijus. After meeting a certain medic, however, the pieces are picked up and he may just get his chance at revenge. Annihilation is the only ending he will accept for the Kaiju menace. KO/BD, Human Transformers, Pacific Rim AU.


Title: At the Edge of the Drift  
Transformers Pacific Rim AU  
Main pairing: Breakdown/Knock Out

A/N: First fic, so I'm honestly just writing as I go. Just recently got into Transformers: Prime, and Breakdown became my favorite character despite his...untimely death. No Pac Rim characters, except for the Kaijus, will be in this fic. Again, I only ever watched Transformers: Prime, so while this will have G1 elements and mentions of characters, this will be mainly have only Prime characters.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1**: Black, With its Yellow Eyes

Breakdown remembers 2013. He remembers smoldering embers and black clouds looming overhead a graying city, buildings of rubble illuminated red from the burning sky.

He remembers the panic in his eldest brother's eyes, and the warmth of slick, sweaty hands as they pawed at his arm to haul him up from the puddle of blood beneath his feet. Vaguely, he could distinguish Motormaster's hurried growls at the rest of his siblings—"_Get the fuck up_!"—through the ringing in his ears. He glances down at his parents, but only a hand is visible from the concrete slab that covers the rest of their bodies.

He doesn't look again.

* * *

They're running. The pitter-patter of their feet is accompanied by the cacophony of inhuman roars that seemed to echo throughout the whole city and the tremble of the broken earth. And it's here Breakdown remembers looking up, and seeing nothing but black. Black, with its thick, leathery skin, and monstrous teeth, and spear-like claws.

"We're all going to die." His brother, Dead End, chokes out beneath tears. Wildrider laughs brokenly, Drag Strip screams, and Motormaster only stands there silently.

Breakdown curls up and trembles violently.

Black, black, black with its gleaming white teeth to rip him to shreds, black with its giant claws to pierce his body, black with its glowing yellow eyes to search him out from where ever he hides...

Suddenly he's on the ground, face stinging painfully from the sudden impact against its flesh. Dazed and confused, he looks up and sees Motormaster in the midst of punching Dead End, fists clenched tightly around a dirty maroon shirt. Motormaster snarls at the younger men around him.

"All of you, shut up!" He shouts, and then Breakdown feels a hand gripping the collar of his shirt as Motormaster hauls them all up from their positions on the ground. Motormaster begins tugging insistently at them, eyes wide and feral with hidden grief behind unrelenting rage.

There's explosions all around them. Breakdown watches with morbid fascination as the fighter jets all fall from the sky in a mass of fire and metal, a firework of destruction, powerless against the black monster they were faced with.

_'Dead End's right,'_ he thinks, _'That thing will kill us all.'_

"We're not going to die!" Motormaster shrieks. Breakdown shakes his head but Motormaster is the eldest, the one who was always left in charge, and always knew what was best for the family. So although Breakdown did not believe him, he followed unresistingly as his eldest brother dragged them inside a half demolished building.

Through the crumbled shelves and fallen boxes, they find a storage room underneath the store. As he and his brothers huddled together within the cold, dark room, Breakdown remembered black. Black, with its sickly yellow eyes and slitted pupils that stared at him through the dark, red sky.

With inky blackness around him, the warmth of his brother's skin and the dull pain in his right cheek were shallow comforts.

* * *

"I hate it." Drag Strip hissed, malice dripping between his teeth. "I'll kill it."

"You'll die." Dead End said, emotionless. Eyes half-lidded and apathetic. "We'll all die."

"I don't care. I'll kill that monster, rip its flesh, gouge its eyes, kill it-!" Drag Strip raged, and Wildrider began cackling madly. Shoulders shaking in his insanity.

"It'll hear us!" Breakdown whimpered, "It probably knows we're here already, I can feel its eyes, watching, waiting—_oh god_."

"Quiet, all of you!"

Breakdown and his siblings immediately quieted, even Wildrider's manic laughing dying down to nothing but the soft, occasional giggle. The dark purple bruises on each of their faces a reminder to why they were better off obeying Motormaster than not.

Wildrider became completely silent.

"...I miss mother." He whispered, voice breathy and wistful.

There was a pause, and Motormaster's gruff voice replied: "She's gone."

And Breakdown knew he, nor any of his siblings, would ever be the same again.

* * *

After nearly a week of entrapment beneath the city, Breakdown listened to the gentle rumble of the truck's engines and looked back to the crumbled ruins of what was once his home. He watched as the black monster's corpse shrunk into the distance, Wildrider's mad giggling a soft humming in his ears.

He feels yellow eyes watching him.

* * *

6 months later, on February 5th, the tragedy they've known repeats itself at the coasts of Manila.

They watch dully at the tiny little screen, image flickering in distortion every few seconds from the lack of reception. Breakdown stares at the image of the other black beast. It's not the one he knows, Trespasser, but still terrifying all the same.

_"Ano__**—zzt—**__er attack, se__**—zzt—**__nd time thi__**—zzt—**__year. Nation in state o__**—zzt—**__emergency-"_

Drag Strip hisses as the beast, Hundun, crushes another building, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Hundun's head suddenly swivels to seemingly look directly into the camera. Breakdown quickly averts his eyes from the screen, cold shivers running in waves down his body as the monster's eyes bore into him, and he hears the beginnings of a blood-curling scream before the feed is abruptly cut off.

They don't speak as static fills the empty silence.

* * *

Breakdown thinks back on a time with soft beds, and a warm dinner around a large birch-wood table. Here, his parents are animated and alive, not bloody pulps buried beneath collapsed ruins. Dead End and Drag Strip are bickering in that affectionate brotherly way, and Wildrider is laughing in happiness not madness. Motormaster is there, stoic as always, but his eyes betray his content. Breakdown remembers a smile on his own face, mashed potatoes being shoveled onto his plate.

Now, he and his brothers sleep in hard cots, and their dinners are dry-tasting rations. Dead End has become apathetic to the world, always muttering how everyone was going to die anyway, and Drag Strip obsesses about killing the monsters—Kaijus—with hate in his every breath. Wildrider is psychotic now, his laughing a mixture of sobs and nonsensical rambling, and his actions careless to those around him.

Motormaster is perpetually angry. His 'lessons' comes frequently and easily now, and Breakdown can feel his brother's rage and grief through each connection of his fist to his skin. He doesn't let anyone else touch them though, the last to try ended up with both arms broken.

Breakdown thinks to an old conversation, at an old playground with him and his brothers, his father's hand laid on top of Motormaster's head.

_"__You're the oldest, so make sure to protect your younger brothers."_

As eldest, his brother had known their parents the longest, and had always taken their words to heart, even now.

Breakdown himself is teetering on the edge of sanity, his mind stricken with paranoia. His skin itches with every second that passes, movement around him filtering through as flickers of a black kaiju, and he feels its yellow stare on him constantly.

* * *

Drag Strip bursts through the door of their makeshift home, rotted wooden door nearly ripped from its rusty hinges by the force. There's a flyer in his hand, crinkled from a white knuckled grip, and his brother has a large smile, one that Breakdown hasn't seen in a very long time, plastered on his face.

Drag Strip begins rambling excitedly; about something called the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, and of Jaegars, and of the Kaijus. Breakdown dimly remembers hearing about the establishment of the PPDC, and of the Jaegar project; giant robotic suits being built to contend against the Kaijus, although he hadn't heard about them drafting...

"We can kill them all!" Drag Strip laughs happily, arms stretched, eyes bright and alive. "I'll kill more than anyone!"

The decision is inevitable. They live in a rundown shack, barely scraping by with food, and their old clothes are becoming large on their thinning frames. The flyer promises a stable shelter, an actual bed with sheets and blankets, and warm food.

Motormaster briefly thinks of Trespasser and the flattened corpses of their parents, and gives a nod of approval.

They pass, and are enlisted into the Jaegar Academy two weeks later.

* * *

Breakdown watches as blood gushes down in rivets from the test pilot's nose, eyes red from popped blood vessels and are rolling to the back of his head. He only half-pays attention to the conversation next to him, mind instead focusing to seeing shadows at the corners of his vision. He shudders as he feels imaginary Kaiju eyes sweeping over his frame.

"As you can see, the neuro-load is too burdensome on one mind. Therefore we'd like to run a prototype method with you and your brothers..." The K-Science Officer—_'Shockwave,'_ he recalls—begins in a monotonous voice.

"We've came up with two methods. Both involve a neurological connection interface in which the pilots, case in point you," Breakdown blinks as Shockwave gestures to Motormaster, and then to himself and his brothers, "Will share the neurological burden and control over a single Jaegar."

Breakdown squints as Shockwave taps a finger against blue diagrams. There's obviously a brain as well as some squiggles and numbers that Breakdown can only assume depicts whatever neurological mechanisms the scientist is talking about. But he had never been good at this sort of thing before, and that certainly didn't change now.

"We call this synchronization 'Drifting.' However, finding two pilots with the Drift compatibility necessary while also fulfilling the physical requirements is quite difficult and tedious. Logically, a much more practical method would be preferred." A single eye shifts to stare at them. "This is where you and your brothers come in."

"By dividing the neuro-load between the five of you, one acting as the dominant mind, it may be possible to operate a Jaegar without the need for such high drift compatibilities between the pilots, and allow for a much less invasive mind meld. Of course, some drift compatibility will be necessary, but seeing as you are all brothers, it is logical to assume that factor won't pose much of an issue." Shockwave concludes, hand and prosthetic limb moving to be clasped behind his back, posture still as he waits for Motormaster's response.

Briefly, Breakdown wonders how the K-Science Officer lost his left hand and eye, and his mind drifts to the idea of the scientist losing them during one of the Kaiju attacks. Perhaps to falling debris or a collapsed building. There's a sudden movement to his left and Breakdown jumps a little in surprise as Motormaster straightens up next to him. He gives a curt nod to the cycloptic scientist.

"The terms are acceptable. We will participate in the operation of the Jaegar."

Shockwave nods approvingly.

"That is most logical. Your cooperation is appreciated and will be vital to the success of this project."

Breakdown frowns and his eyes flickers to the catatonic pilot in front of them. "But what if it doesn't-"

"Doesn't matter," Dead End's soft voice rings out. "We'll all die sooner or later anyway."


End file.
